Elder Scrolls: Divine Curse
by Drake Vhett
Summary: Few men suffer for a lifetime. Fewer still suffer for more than one. The Empire has be brought to its knees, and in the province of Skyrim it will rise again. A series of snapshots of Ðraké Tívaíñ, Hero of the Ages. Skyrim: Empire-side, Lydia x Dova


Elder Scrolls: Divine Curse

"I never asked for any of this. I was a simple man, looking for what any man wants: a home, a family, a honest profession, a good death. That was my goal since childhood, and were it not for my curse, I would have it."

"No, I was cast out from my home, lead to the jaws of death many a time, and forced to fight for causes not of my own. I have lived my life to free people from the jaws of oppression, to uplift them to freedom, and yet I have never been a free man. It is a role I have never resented, and the day I do, it is the day it will no longer be my role"

- Opening to "Hero of the Ages"

The mountains were covered in a layer of snow. Cold, thick, and unchanging. It brought an age to the land that awed those in it's view. It was a sign of how little things changed.

The river was a constant reminder of how things change. The flows and eddies scraping away that the rough edges of the ice that sought to capture it, smoothing away the rocks in it's path.

The air was crisp, the scent of the pines a faint touch upon the breeze that rustled the trees. The gurgle of the river a soft murmur among the whispers of the grasses, still poking out from the top of the snow.

It was a scene of supreme tranquility and peace. Unmarred by the touch of man. Until the waters ran red. Along the edge of the river lay a man on his side, a stream of red diluting the crystal-clear water. His low groan shattered the calm tranquility of the mountains.

Struggling to lift his head to clear the water, the man's slow and shaky movements barely accomplished his goal. Lifting up his arms, which had the same strength in them as a piece of string, the man began to drag himself out of the water. Struggling up onto the frozen bank, and moving beyond, the man left a trail of blood behind him. Once his body was out of the water, he stopped to rest.

Once he had caught his second wind, the man's hand began searching his body. He felt, and then avoided, the arrow in his left shoulder, dagger in his back, and series of gashes down his right side. Propping himself against a tree, careful to avoid touching the dagger, he wrapped a hand around the arrow, as close to the wound as possible. With a grunt, he broke the arrow off, and tossed it away in anger. Reaching around, the man could not get a good grip on the dagger.

Growling is frustration, the man did a sharp twist and caught the edge of the dagger. With a yank he pulled it out, a pained gasp slipping from his lips. Looking down, he saw what he had missed on his previous examination: a large spear-head in between his ribs.

Gingerly checking the area around the wound, the man felt nothing vital had been damaged. Feeling nothing injured, he let out a long sigh. Then in a quick motion he pulled the spearhead out cleanly. He tossed it away, and let his hand come to press on the wound. Unlike his other two wounds, this one bled.

Steeling himself, he started to stand. Stopping abruptly as his side erupted in pain, the man panted. Clenching his jaw, he quickly stood up, letting out a low growl at the pain. He steadied himself of the tree and took a step forward. The pain receded into the back of his mind as he moved forward, smothered by sheer force of will.

Following the stream, the man began to try and figure out why he was here. He could not think of anything. Not just pertaining to his current situation, but thing further back. He couldn't remember a single thing. Sure, he knew how to treat a wound, or follow a trail, as he was, but he couldn't remember where he had learned how to, or why.

These thoughts were cast aside when the man skidded along a few loose rocks, jarring his side and causing it to erupt in pain. Tumbling down the small incline, he almost plunged into the icy cold water again. Swearing, he began to pull himself up the slope, using a hand for balance. Cresting the slope, the man found himself near a group of men walking through the forest. He waved his hand and shouted as best as he could,

"Hello! Can you help me?" The man asked moments before an arrow whizzed through the air and smacked into the feet of the lead man. There was a sharp pain in the back of his head and he fell into unconsciousness.

The man awoke with a jolt. He looked about, trying to figure out where he was. Trying to run a hand across his face alerted him to the fact that he was boncing. Looking around alerted him to the fact that he was on a cart in the middle of quite a few other carts. They were trundling down a mountain path. He realized he was not alone as another man began to speak to him.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the boarder, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." said a blond-headed man, coated in grime, wearing some kind of blue uniform. The man shook his head no, and looked toward the man indicated.

"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you cam along. Empire was nice and lazy," sneered this man. He too was filthy, but unlike the so-called Stormcloak, he was half-starved and brown headed. "If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell" The man continued, whilst a flash of memory jarred the silent man. **Brown faces, fights, a piece of a staff**, all flooded into his mind. He shook his head to clear it, and refocused on the thief as he turned to look at him.

"You there. You and me- we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." he said. Before the man could respond, the blond man interrupted.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." As the man was finally going to get a word in, a soldier driving the cart shouted back to them.

"Shut up back there!" Despite this command, the thief continued talking, much to the annoyance of the man, desperately trying to get two words in.

"And what's wrong with him, huh?" The man breathed in to speak, and found himself stopped by the blond man, yet again.

"Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King." Looking back at the gagged man, his blond hair pulled back behind his ears, the man could tell the difference between the dress of the two Stormcloaks. Another montage of images flooded the man's mind, of **Kings, Queens, Counts, Countesses**. It would seem that this man was well traveled in the higher realms of society, but could still not piece it together, or remember anything at will.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion," This revelation seems to awe the thief, but had no real effect on the still-confused man. "But if they've captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?" Yet again the man remembered things. **A ship, a cell, another close encounter with royalty.** Yet looking on the supposed 'True High King', the man could not see any resemblance to the man he say in his mind's eye. The land around them began to become greener, the air warmer.

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." was the cryptic reply. This sent the thief into a frenzy.

"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening." A moment of silence descended upon those in the wagon, though it was only voluntary for two of the prisoners. The blond man broke the silence, his tone more resigned.

"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" It was a question that sounded wistful, as it the blond man was remembering something of his own.

"Why do you care?" Replied the thief, choking back tears. The reference to Sovngarde must have been important, but the man could not think of why. As if to explain, the blond man answered,

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home" The solemn answer caused the man wrinkle his eyes, yet again remembering further. **Nords, cold, mountains, Skyrim, Sovngarde, afterlife. Lovely,** the man thought, **I wake up to find myself with a death sentence.** At that moment an especially large bump caused pain to shoot through the man's side. He grunted slightly, but was otherwise silent in his suffering.

"Rorikstead. I'm...I'm from Rorikstead" replied the thief, neither him nor the blond noticing the man's grunt. The comment to be made by the man was cut off by another soldier.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" So they were to loose their heads. Even without his knowing, the man began to study everything. The pathway approaching above them would provide perfect cover from arrows, but it was to high up to reach. The stones were worn smooth by the harsh elements, so there were no holds for climbing. The man began working his bonds, making as much space with as little movement as possible. A woman was walking down a path with a bucket. She was to unimportant to be an effective hostage. The bucket was too weak to be a weapon.

A sign pointed up the path the woman trod on saying "Riften", back up the path they had come said "Ivarstead", and the sign pointed at the town said "Helgen". A soldier patrolled the walkway. A building was in front of them, and the roof was made of a flammable material. The lack of a flame removed that as a possibility for the man. Until he felt a warmth in his hands, and saw a tiny flame hovering above them. he cupped his hands to hide the flame, and used it to cut his binds. He kept his work secret, pretending to still be bound, and extinguished the flame.

So he was a spell caster, though he could not remember his abilities. Looking forward, he saw an old man on a horse.

"Good. Let's get this over with." was his reply to the soldier. The thief began panicking, and praying.

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me!" he cried. The man furrowed his brow, as the thief's list seemed incomplete. **Shor was a Nordic addition. Not to be trifled with, but not one of the, who? The Nine Divines, of course! Arkay, Julianos, Stendarr, and Zenithar were the likely omissions by a Nord, but Talos was their favorite. Why did the thief forget Talos? Why, the man served the Divines, but Talos was the taskmaster, the one who directed the man for the rest. Wait, directed by the Nine? Tasked by Talos? With what? Saving the Empire.**

These scattered thoughts made little sense to the man for now, and so he pushed them to the back of his mind. Escape was his top priority. They passed under the walkway, coming into the town proper. The older man, General Tullius spoke with an elf on horseback. **A high elf, physically weaker, strong spell casters.** The elf was flanked by two guards. **A good hostage, except for the magical affluence. Kill the elves first, if they interfere. Too dangerous.** A man viewed them from beyond a rail.

"Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor," The disdain in the blond man's voice was apparent. The man focused on the path beyond the General, turning off beyond a building, as the wagon followed the downward sloping path further into the village. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

Those were the first words the man agreed with. Thalmor read enemy in his head that elves did not. A keep's battlements were in front of them, and the gate to the town slammed shut behind them. No escape that way, only further on. Two more houses on the left, at the base of the slope above them.

"This is Helgen," the blond began. The man scoffed, I saw the sign fool. He thought. "I used to be sweet on a girl here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in?" he continued. They passed a flag, a red dragon with a black background. **The empire. His charge to save. Oblivion. The Blades. Martin. Death.** The man squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and opened them, clearing his head.

"Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." The blond man mused. **They still should, but now you are an enemy of the empire.** They rounded the side of the battlement. A open area was to their front, a broken down wall on the left side. A small boy asked his father,

"Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?" The man saw a woman, boy, and a man standing by the door to a building. It looked to be their house, the man and woman married. The boy must be their son. The man put a hand on his son's shoulder.

"You need to go inside, little cub" the father said. **Good, protect him. Do not let him see death. Protect his innocence.** The man thought as he saw his own childhood. **Great walls, both of stone and emotion. A uncaring father, loving mother. Bigger brother, always the hero, to be married. Two sisters, one strong, independent. Never bowing to another, always with sticks and leaves in her hair. The younger, quiet, more refined, less brash. Fooled everyone, quite the diplomat, a bit manipulative, only in good jest. Viewed on as a boozing womanizer, wasted potential. Untrue. The Black Eagle. Killed bandits, saved the poor. Band of outlaws, friends. Brother's wedding. Wife saved from a wizard. Kidnapped. Quest to save. Met future brother-in-law, sister smitten. Retrieved brother's bride, killed wizard. Wedding. Father proud. Liche. Family trapped. Secret revealed. Magic used. Liche banished. Self banished. Tears. Farewells. Father saddened, no, shamed. Bound. Banished. King. Quest. Reborn.**

The flood of memories was staggering, everything that made the man who he was was returning, knocking the wind from his lungs. Decades, no, centuries of pain, healing, suffering, joy, love, hate, loss and life returned. A clam settled on the man. he knew who he was. There was no question. He knew what he had to do.

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers." the boy replied, looking up at his father.

"Inside the house. Now" the father scolded. He knew what was going to happen. The crowd further on began to murmur.

"Get these prisoners out of those carts now!" a woman yelled. The thief looked around, worried.

"Why are we stopping?" The blond man looked at him, the man simply bowed his head for a moment.

"Why do you think? End of the line." he answered. There was a small doorway in the stone separating them and a larger courtyard. The wagon shuddered to a stop. Four soldiers left the further wagon, yet the man's wagon wasn't disembarking. The thief was scared in his seat.

"Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us." The blond man said, trying to be defiant in spite of his pending execution. The thief had no such composure.

"No! Wait! We're not rebels!" he cried, as Ulfric jumped off the cart. The man looked at him, willing his to move. The blond man growled at him.

"Face your death with some courage, thief." the blond man said. The man pushed the thief forward, and he jumped to the ground. A woman and a man were standing a few paces from them. The man held a list, while the woman stood impassively. She wore the armour of a Captain.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" the thief babbled. The captain didn't seem to care about his cries.

"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time" she barked. The blond man muttered.

"Empire loves their damn lists" was all he said. The man scanned the crowd, looking at the way the Imperial soldiers stood. Hopefully he could talk his was out of this. He would rather not fight his Imperial brethren.

The aid began calling names.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm." The called man strode forward defiantly, head high.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric" the blond man called. The man shook his head, not saying anything. He had still yet to say a word the entire trip.

"Ralof of Riverwood" the aid called. A the blond Stormcloak soldier walked forward, and was lead into the courtyard. The thief looked like a trapped animal.

"Lokir of Rorikstead" the aid called. The thief stepped forward quickly.

"No, I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" he cried. Good, thought the man. They shouldn't execute you if you make your case known. Then the thief signed his own death. He ran.

"Halt!" the captain yelled, but the thief did not heed her words.

"You're not going to kill me!" the thief gloated as he ran. Fool.

"Archers!" was all the captain had to call. A half-dozen arrows hit the man in the back. He didn't even scream as he died. "Anyone else feel like running?" she sneered. The man raised an eyebrow and shook his head slowly. This caught the attention of the aid.

"Wait. You there. Step forward," he said, looking confused as he checked his list. Holding his head high, as an innocent man would. "Who are you?"

"I am Ðraké Tívaíñ, of the Dragon Isle," the man said simply. "Due south of the Imperial City's Coast." The man added, noticing the man's confused look, as he pointed down. His clean, pale face, close-cropped black hair and beard, blue eyes, and medium build did not make him very threatening. If anything, he looked like the type of person whom you would see in a tavern, telling stories of the ruins he had explored, bandits he had swindled, and damsels' he had rescued. All in all, he did not look like the Nordic traitors they were to execute today.

"You're a long way from the Imperial City. What're you doing in Skyrim?" he asked. Tívaíñ tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders, emoting with his seemingly bound hands.

"I'm looking for something. Something that found its way here" he replied, not sounding worried in the least.

"Captain. What should we do? He's not on the list." the aid asked.

"Let me go?" Tívaíñ provided helpfully, raising his hands.

"Forget the list. He goes to the block." the Capitan ordered, giving her aid a nasty look.

"Is it something I said, love?"Tívaíñ asked, looking at the captain. He looked back at the aid.

"By your orders, Captain," he said. Tívaíñ mouthed 'what?' at the man. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Cyrodiil" he added.

"Don't worry about it, mate. I'll be fine" Tívaíñ said.

"Follow the captain, prisoner" he said. Tívaíñ took a step toward the Captain.

"What did I do to deserve being stuck with her?" Tívaíñ asked the open sky. The captain grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him forward. Tívaíñ found himself standing in a crowd, before a priset and a headsman. The captain moved to be next to the priestess. The general stood before Stormcloak.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne," the general said. Stormcloak muttered into his gag in response. "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace." Before the general could continue, what could only be described as a roar echoed through the courtyard.

"What was that?" The aid asked nervously. Something tinged at the back of Tívaíñ's mind. The general cut his hand across the air.

"It's nothing. Carry on" he ordered. The Captain was quick to listen to his orders. She ordered the priest to give them last rights. Before she could even really get started, a Stormcloak soldier stepped forward.

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with," Tívaíñ glared at the soldier. If Tívaíñ was to escape, he would need as many Stormcloaks alive as possible. The priestess, of Arkay if Tívaíñ was correct, was reasonably miffed at being interrupted in such a rude way. "Come on, I haven't got all morning" the soldier goaded, and was forced to his knees by the Captain. She planted a foot on his back to hold him down.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" he asked in defiance. **No, they aren't. Not with the Thalmor hovering over there. I will have to fix that soon enough.** Tívaíñ thought.

The headsman raised his ax, and with a great ease, cut off the man's head. Tívaíñ took a slight, unnoticed step forward so that he was in front of the group. hopefully the next to get called. The Captain kicked the man's body off the block, while a woman screamed,

"You Imperial bastards!" Tívaíñ wondered what a brave man might have accomplished against the Empire's true enemy, the Thalmor, had the Imperial Army not been wrapped around their fingers. A man from the crowd called out "Justice!". He had probably been wronged by the Stormcloaks. **Probably lost a child. It was a pity that any Imperial Citizen would seek the death of another, so long as the Thalmor were around.** The man's wife screamed, "Death to the Stormcloaks!". **Yes, they had lost a child to the Stormcloaks.**

"As fearless in death as he was in life" the blond man, Ralof, if the Imperial list was to be trusted, said.

"Next, the renegade from Cyrodill!" the Captain ordered, pointing at Tívaíñ.

"Renegade? That's hurtful, love" he joked, as another roar echoed through out the area.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?" the aid asked. Tívaíñ thought it was familiar, but still couldn't place it.

"I said, next prisoner!" the Captain yelled, ignoring the man.

"All right, all right. I'm coming" Tívaíñ exclaimed with an overly-exaggerated sigh.

"To the block, prisoner. Nice an easy" the aid said. Tívaíñ raised his eyebrow again, but moved forward. As he moved to the block, his eyes locked with the headsman. Tívaíñ winked, and knelt down. He saw the Captain's foot descending to his back as he gazed up at the headsman.

"Don't you lot know? Never execute an unknown. You never know," Tívaíñ began. He let his bindings fall free as he spread his arms. Rolling toward the headsman, he caught the Captain's foot between his elbow and his side, grabbed her knee with his hand, placed a hand on her rear, and pushed her over. In the same motion he stood up and caught the ax mid-fall. Holding on to the pole right under the blade, he stepped to the side, letting it fall until it was parallel with the ground. He twisted his grip so he held the back of the ax, and grabbed lower down with his other hand. He jabbed the end of the ax into the headsman's stomach so he would release the weapon. Spinning the ax, he plunged it past his torso, into the headsman's neck behind him as the man doubled over. "When they might do something crazy"

The top of the ax jutted out from the back of his head. Tívaíñ sprung away, the man's neck spraying blood at the ax left it. Tívaíñ whirled the ax in front of him, deflecting the three arrows that came at him with the axhead. He reached down and grabbed the Captain as she struggled to her feet, holding her by an arm twisted behind her back, axhead to her neck.

"Now then, let's not get all feisty here." Tívaíñ said loudly. In a not-so-loud voice he said, "You've got a really nice arse by the way. All firm and... right. Might not be the best time to talk about that, eh?" Tívaíñ was moving the Captain back and forth as Imperial soldiers approached. Another roar was heard, this time much closer.

"What in Oblivion is that?" The general shouted, pointing at something past Tívaíñ.

"Do I look that stupid General? I wasn't born yesterday mate" Tívaíñ laughed back. He looked backwards when he heard a crash. On top of a battlement stood a dragon, covered in black-silver scales, with eyes as red as a river of blood. It roared, no, it said something. The sky darkened and balls of fire began to crash down upon the town. The dragon began to start shouting, causing the force of sound to crash into the spell casters. Tívaíñ threw the Captain away from him.

"Run!" he yelled, as in one motion he flipped the ax around and threw it at the dragon. It shouted at the ax, causing it to fly away. The force continued on and hit Tívaíñ. He was knocked to his knees, disorientated. A voice started shouting to him.

"Hey, you. get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!" Tívaíñ got to his feet and followed the voice blindly, not knowing who it was. Tívaíñ followed the man toward a battlement and leapt in, avoiding a falling piece of rubble. The door was shut, and Tívaíñ saw that he had followed Ralof, the Stormcloak. Not needing another fight, Tívaíñ decided cooperation was their only chance for now.

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof asked.

"I don't know mate. It if walks like a dragon, talks like a dragon, is it a dragon?" Tívaíñ spat, placing his hands on his knees as he sucked in breath.

"Legends don't burn down villages," the Jarl replied, ignoring Tívaíñ. The dragon seemed to roar in response. "We need to move. Now!" Stormcloak yelled with greater haste.

"Up through the tower, let's go!" Ralof yelled. he began ascending the stone steps, leaving behind the wounded men.

"Up and to where? Dragon's bloody fly!" Tívaíñ yelled in exasperation as he followed, not having a better plan.

"With me, up the tower!" Ralof replied, not answering the question. A soldier was trying to move rocks that blocked the steps as the side of the battlement burst in, knocking down Ralof. "Get back!" Tívaíñ did not move, even as the dragon began spewing in fire, mere inches in front of him. Tívaíñ dragged him up to the small interior platform.

"You see the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!" Ralof yelled as he pointed.

"What? Are you bloody insane? Jump from a burning battlement to a burning inn?" Tívaíñ yelled in reply.

"Go! We'll follow when we can!" Ralof insisted. Tívaíñ shook his head.

"Where have I hear that before?" Tívaíñ muttered as he backed up as far as he could. He sprinted out of the battlement and leapt. He held in the air for a moment before crashing down, through the inn's roof into the top floor. He caught his sleeve in the fire and patted it out quickly. He ran through the burning inn, avoiding the collapsing beams. He dropped through a hole in the floor as the dragon flapped around the building. Stepping outside, Tívaíñ saw the aid calling for a boy to move from the body of his father to him. Even as the dragon landed the man continued guide the boy to him. Tívaíñ was inspired by this man's selflessness, and was determined to prevent his death. Tívaíñ heard the man's pained cry as the boy's father was incinerated.

"Gods... Everyone get back!" he shouted as the dragon's flames reached them. "Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way."

"I seemed to be doing just fine until the damned dragon showed up. This puts a crimp in my escape plan." Tívaíñ replied, snapping his finger dramatically. The man shook his head and turned to the other soldier.

"Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense" the aid said, ruffling the boy's hair.

"Gods guide you, Hadvar" the soldier said, scooping up the boy. Tívaíñ extended a hand to the boy.

"Nice to meet you mate," he said, getting a quivering shake in response. "You'll be fine. I promise" Tívaíñ said. his calm words seemed to calm the boy, and Gunnar voiced his thanks. Tívaíñ and Hadvar crossed the open area quickly, and came to a alley between a wall and a burning house.

"Stick close to the wall!" Hadvar yelled. Tívaíñ shook his head.

"No, I was thinking of doing a bloody dance in the middle of the square!" he shouted back. The pair jumped down a ledge, and continued along the wall. The dragon suddenly smashed into the top of the wall and spewed fire into the square. A clawed wingtip was a hairsbreadth away from Tívaíñ's shoulder. Hadvar and Tívaíñ looked at one another, and Tívaíñ brought a finger to his lips. The dragon flew off, and Hadvar began moving again.

"Quickly, follow me!" They raced up some steps and through a demolished building, only to hear the shouts of other soldiers. The general was getting a wounded soldier up, trying to get everyone away from the village. Tívaíñ saw another difference between the General and the Jarl. The Jarl had not given a moment's pause for his own injured in the tower. "It's you and me, prisoner!"

"Call me Tívaíñ!" was the quick response.

"Fine then, quickly Tívaíñ!" Hadvar replied, running through an arch toward the main keep. They were intercepted by Ralof. "Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time." Ralof replied. Tívaíñ wanted to knock their heads together and point out their common enemy, but he didn't have time.

"Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde." Hadvar cursed.

"You! Come on, into the keep!" Ralof yelled to Tívaíñ.

"With me, Tívaíñ. Let's go!" Hadvar also yelled. Tívaíñ began running to Hadvar.

"Sorry Ralof, but the general is a better man than the Jarl, and the Empire has to stay united. I hope we will be on the same side soon, but for now we find ourselves against one another!" Tívaíñ yelled back, coming to a stop next to Hadvar.

"We've got to get inside, now!" Hadvar yelled as both men smashed their shoulders into the door. The stumbled into the keep. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it. Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End Times?" Hadvar asked.

"Others probably made it out elsewhere, yes, quite so, and I don't know about the last one" Tívaíñ shot back in between lungfuls of air. The hot air outside had sucked the breath out of him. The last time that had happened was when he had gone through the Oblivion gates.

"We should keep moving" Hadvar said, obviously still shocked. Tívaíñ couldn't blame him. I should have recognized the roar of a dragon. I've been around them enough. Tívaíñ scolded himself. "Take a look around, there should be plenty of gear to choose from. I'm going to see if I can find something for those burns" Hadvar said, indicating the burns on Tívaíñ's arms and shoulder. Tívaíñ nodded, and began scrounging around in the cabinetry and chests. "See if one of these chests has some armour for you. Also there's got to be a sword or two. Look around"

Tívaíñ opened up one chest and found a set of Imperial armour. He held it up, and nodded Hadvar over. He had Tívaíñ take off his shirt and sit down so he could apply the salve he had found. Hadvar whistled as he saw Tívaíñ's other wounds.

"You've got a cut in your back, split in your side, arrow in your shoulder, and you're fighting off headsmen and taking Captains hostage? You're very tough" Hadvar said. He applied the salve a bit and Tívaíñ winced. Tívaíñ motioned to some wine on a shelf and Hadvar obliged him.

"I didn't have much choice, mate. Your Captain is rather unforgiving, fine arse, sour mood, and all." Tívaíñ said in between swigs of wine.

"Fine ass? Can't see it through the armour" Hadvar laughed. He started to wrap a bandage around the wounds.

"You can sure feel it, though" Tívaíñ smirked as he offered Hadvar the jug. Hadvar downed the rest of it and stood up.

"I suppose the execution situation was worth it for you" Hadvar joked, handing Tívaíñ the armour from the table.

"Eh, I wasn't too worried about actually getting me head lopped off. I've been in these kinds of situations before" Tívaíñ said, taking the armour.

"You better get that on. Give that sword a few swings too" Hadvar said, motioning to the sword on the rack. Tívaíñ pulled on the armour pieces, securing the leather tightly. He gripped the swords and gave it a few experimental swings. He launched into a few quick stabs and swings, his expertise with the weapon clear.

"Let's keep moving. That thing is still out there" Hadvar said. Tívaíñ the book he found inside his armour. Snatching up a coinpurse from the table, he moved to the door with Hadvar. Hadvar pulled the chain, and the door opened. "Come on, this way"

The two moved down a hall to a similar door. Hadvar moved to the chain when they heard,

"We need to get moving! That dragon is tearing up the whole keep!" from a man. A woman replied,

"Just give me a minute... I'm out of breath..." Hadvar pulled the chain, and the door slide up into the ceiling. Hadvar looked back at Tívaíñ.

"Hear that? Stormcloaks. Maybe we can reason with them." he said. Tívaíñ nodded eagerly, hoping to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed. he was glad Hadvar was of the same mind. The two walked into the room. "Hold on, now, we only want to..." was all he got out before the two attacked. The man pulled a warhammer from his back, while the woman yanked out a similarly large greatsword, standing up quickly. As the man charged Tívaíñ stepped forward. A quick slash across the chest staggered the man, and the stab through the heart a moment later killed him. The woman slashed at him with her sword, only to find it slide off his own. Tívaíñ stepped past her, forcing her to turn to fight.

"Stop!" Tívaíñ shouted to no avail. She raised her weapon, only to have Tívaíñ block it up high with his own. He reversed his grip, and brought it down into her collarbone. She died with a shuddering gasp and Tívaíñ ripped out his sword. "May the Divines watch over you" Tívaíñ said simply. Hadvar said nothing as he tried to get the next door open. They moved down a set of stone stairs. The hall they came out in had three Stormcloak soldiers at the other end. Before anyone could do anything, or even say something, the roof collapsed and separated the two groups. Hadvar approached the rubble.

"Damn, that Dragon doesn't give up easy" he said as he opened a door to their left. More voiced could be heard.

"What are you doing? We need to get out of Helgen. Now!" one voice urged frantically. Another voice responded,

"These Imperials have potions in here, we're going to need them" accompanied by the clanging of shelves. The two walked out into what looked like a storeroom and kitchen. Hadvar saw the two Stormcloaks first and yelled as he charged,

"Where'd you come from?" The first Stormcloak only had time to yell "Death to the Empire!" before Hadvar cut him down. Tívaíñ shot past him, swinging at the other Stormcloak. He connected barely, and got a slash across the arm in response. Tívaíñ grabbed the man by the shoulder and spun him around, grabbing him around the neck. He again flipped his blade in his hand and plunged his sword into the man's chest, killing him instantly.

"May the Divines watch over you" Tívaíñ said, before wincing again. His sword-arm had a huge gash in it. Hadvar looked at it critically.

"That looks bad" he said. Tívaíñ put a hand over it to staunch the bleeding, but felt something else. A light peaked through his fingers, and the pain receded. Tívaíñ lifted his hand to check, and saw the wound was healed.

"You're a spell caster" Hadvar said, astonished.

"Don't sound so surprised. I'm a lot of things" Tívaíñ shot back, really in no mood for this. Hadvar shook his head to clear it.

"An old storeroom. See if you can find some potions. Might come in handy" he said, moving right past the subject. Tívaíñ tossed Hadvar a green apple he found, and ate one as well. A piece of bread followed, both men ravenous from their exertions. Tívaíñ finally tried the barrel the Stormcloak had been prying away at and found a few potions. Giving a few to Hadvar, Tívaíñ secured a few on his belt for easy access. They continued down another incline. Combat sounded from below.

"The torture room. Gods, I wish we didn't need these..." Hadvar said, unbeknownst to him giving Tívaíñ another reason to like him. Tívaíñ charged down the steps and into the room. Barreling into a man, he put his hand to his shoulder and kept charging. When they hit a wall, Tívaíñ plunged his sword into the man's gut. Twisting, he killed him.

"You fellows happened about just in time. These boys seemed a bit upset at how I've been entertaining their comrades." the old torturer said.

"May the Divines watch over you" Tívaíñ said, laying the man down.

"Don't you even know what's going on? A dragon is attacking Helgen!" Hadvar said quickly.

"A dragon? Please. Don't make up nonsense." The torturer responded. As the two talked, Tívaíñ scrounged around for supplies, repressing his anger at the torturers' work. "Although, come to think of it, I did hear some off noises coming from over there" he added, waving a hand dismissivly. Tívaíñ found a pair of lockpicks. As he ran his hands across the tools, he remembered all the times he had used them. He smiled and tucked them into his belt.

"Come with us, we need to get out of here" Hadvar said, moving toward the door. This enraged the torturer.

"You have no authority over me, boy" he sneered back, his words dripping with poison.

"Didn't you hear me? I said the keep is under attack!" Hadvar exclaimed, exasperated by the old man.

"Forget the old man. I'll come with you." The assistant said. Hadvar looked over the room and saw something.

"Wait a second. Looks like there's something in this cage" was all he said as he ran over. The torturer scoffed.

"Don't bother with that. Lost the key ages ago. Poor fellow screamed for weeks" he laughed. Those words sealed the man's fate, but not in front of Hadvar or the assistant. They might not understand. Seeing a pack, Tívaíñ inspected it, looking inside it to find a few more potions. Shrugging it on to his shoulders, he picked up the book near it. It had the Empire's dragon symbol on it, so he stuffed that into the pack as well, adding his earlier finds.

"How can we get it open?" Hadvar asked Tívaíñ. Tívaíñ held up a pick and walked over, working soundlessly. He didn't trust his tongue. "See if you can get it open. We'll need everything we can get"

"Sure, take all my things, please" the torturer said. Tívaíñ nearly broke the pick in anger, but managed to open the cell.

"Grab what you can, and let's go" Hadvar said, not waiting for Tívaíñ to finish. Perfect. Tívaíñ opened up the cage. Inside he found a mage, a few coins, a lockpick, and another book. Tívaíñ knew he would need a hood once he left the keep, to avoid notice.

"May the Divines watch over you" Tívaíñ said.

He took that as well as the other items. Stepping back, Tívaíñ moved out of the way. The torturer stepped forward, looking to steal anything that Tívaíñ hadn't. Grabbing him from behind, Tívaíñ held a hand over the man's mouth.

"For your victims, and all who you have wronged" Tívaíñ said, cutting the man's throat. Tívaíñ pushed him to the side.

"May the Deadra have you" he said as he moved on. Hadvar was standing in the doorway, watching.

"These bastards call themselves Imperial Legionnaires" was all he said. The dead assistant on the side of the passage answered Tívaíñ's impending question.

"I am glad we are both men of the same caliber" Tívaíñ said. Hadvar just turned and moved down the rows of cells leaving the rooms. Taking a few moments to search these cells, they only found a few coins. They could not leave the torture rooms fast enough. Much to their distaste, there was yet another room. They finally reached the exit to this terrible wing of the keep.

"Better to stick together down here" Hadvar said, stepping through the broken wall into the subterranean caverns. Rounding a corner, they heard, and saw, more Stormcloaks. The battle was instantaneous. A woman came over a stone bridge, raising a shield. Hadvar's blow shattered the edge of the shield and split her torso.

"The prisoners are escaping!" he yelled. Tívaíñ shot him a look.

"I know, I'm, one of 'em mate!" he shouted as he charged over the bridge. Not even slowing as another Stormcloak charged him, waving a warhammer, Tívaíñ extended his left hand, flames bursting from his fingertips. The man screamed, thrashed a few times, and fell over the edge, landing on his head with a crack. Continuing his charge, Tívaíñ found the archer standing in oil. A few moments later the Stormcloak found out that was a bad idea, and died aflame. Tívaíñ leapt over the flames, landing in front of the other archer. Smacking the bow out of his hands, Tívaíñ forced him to his knees with a kick to the leg. Steading the man momentarily with his left hand, he stabbed the man through the head with his sword. There was a dull thunk as his swordtip touched the cobblestone ground beneath him. Tívaíñ heard a beg for mercy, and looked over the edge. Hadvar had disarmed a Stormcloak and the man was on the floor. Hadvar cut him down, and kicked away the concealed dagger the man was getting ready to use, in anger. Tívaíñ wished men would honour a surrender as well, but mercy could rarely be afforded.

"May the Divines watch over you" he said. He picked up a longbow and all the archer's quiver, shaking off the blood.

"You're also an archer?" Hadvar asked, surprised at how many skills Tívaíñ possessed.

"As good as I am a swordsman, which you know is pretty damn good" Tívaíñ smirked back, slinging the bow in a strap on his pack.

"All right, let's see if we can find a way out" Hadvar ordered, wanting to get away from the grisly scene of death Tívaíñ had produced.

"Right behind you mate. Well, a few feet behind you, or slightly off to your side, but you know what I mean" Tívaíñ said. They found a raised bridge, and the lever to drop it.

"Let's see where this goes" was all Hadvar said, moving to the lever. With great difficulty Hadvar managed to pull it, and they continued across. The dragon's roar shook the caverns and collapsed the passage behind them, destroying the bridge. "Damn it. No going back that way. I guess we're lucky that didn't come down on top of us"

"I've found ninety percent of my life comes down to luck. And I know that luck doesn't exist" Tívaíñ said, earning a confused look.

"What has it been coming down to, then?" Hadvar asked. Tívaíñ simply pointed up, indicating the gods. Hadvar ran a hand through his hair.

"We'd better push on. I'm sure the others will find another way out" he said, turning away. They moved down a small set of stairs, and began following a subterranean stream. Tívaíñ's feet and knees became wet as they walked through, but he didn't complain. They came to a dead end, with a corpse beside it. Tívaíñ grabbed what he could find of use, as Hadvar looked around.

"Hmm. That doesn't go anywhere. I guess we'd better try this way" he said, pointing down the right passage.

"Lead on mate. I simply follow in your wake" Tívaíñ said. He was sure he could hear Hadvar say "Smartass" under his breath. The followed the path straight into a spider nest. Tívaíñ let Hadvar deal with the little ones, and went straight for the over-sized pair that had just dropped from the ceiling. He leapt up, coming down sword first, impaling the spider to the ground. When he couldn't free his sword, he rolled over its corpse, avoiding the other's bite. Extending both hands, he engulfed the creature in flames. "Baked spider, nasty" Tívaíñ said, moving to retrieve his sword.

"What next? Giant snakes?" Hadvar asked the open air as Tívaíñ used a vial to collect spider poison. He also collected a few spider eggs for future use. Tívaíñ found a silver ring among the spiders, the garnet in the center trying to shine through the spider guts. Tívaíñ wiped it off and slid it on a finger. Rings were great concealed weapons. No one ever expects to get hit by a ring in a fist-fight.

Tívaíñ held up a hand to stop Hadvar from moving on as Tívaíñ quickly cut down the human victims of the spiders.

"May the Divine watch over you" he said. Hadvar took this need of Tívaíñ's to say those six words for each of the dead as usual, silently. They seemed to meet up with the stream again, as they found themselves in another cavern. They crossed a small land-bridge to find themselves next to a cart. As Tívaíñ snatched the coinpurse from the cart, Hadvar forced him down.

"Hold up. There's a bear just ahead. See her? I'd rather not tangle with her right now. We might be able to sneak by. Just take it nice and slow, and watch where you step. Or if you're feeling lucky, or divine inspired, or whatever, you can use that bow of yours. Might take her by surprise" Hadvar said, indicating the weapon on Tívaíñ's back.

"Thanks for the lesson, I know how to sneak around. Far better at it than you are. As for the bear, I'll keep an arrow notched, but I'd rather not kill her for nothing" Tívaíñ whispered back.

"Go ahead. I'll follow your lead and watch your back" Hadvar said, motioning for Tívaíñ to take the lead. Notching an arrow, and keeping an eye on the bear, Tívaíñ and Hadvar began to walk the perimeter of the cave. They made it to the other side no-problem. Hadvar saw how careful Tívaíñ truly was, and realized only years of practice and experience could do that. This prisoner was truly skilled. And truly unnerving. "Easy does it now"

"Whew. That was close" Hadvar whispered, still aware of the bear's proximity. A few human bones attested to those who had not been so careful. The dragon's roar could still be heard, thought it was distant and muted.

"This looks like the way out! I was starting to wonder if we'd ever make it" Hadvar said in joy.

"Never doubted it for a second, mate. We'll live for sure, or die trying" Tívaíñ joked, earning a small chuckle for his trouble. The two climbed the snow loading out of the cave, into the much brighter sunlight.

"Wait!" Hadvar said, causing both to take cover by a rock. The dragon roared overhead, heading to the north. When it was finally out of view, the pair stood up. "Looks like he's gone for good this time. But I don't think we should stick around so see if he comes back"

"I agree mate. We ought to get out of here" Tívaíñ replied, stretching his knees and back, sore from the day's events.

"Closest town from here is Riverwood. My uncle's the blacksmith there. I'm sure he'd help you out" Hadvar offered.

"Thanks mate" Tívaíñ replied, looking at the wilderness around them.

"Listen, you should probably head over to Solitude when you can. The Legion could use good men like you" Hadvar said.

"You really think I ought to join the Legion mate? Won't my previous imprisonment be a impediment?" Tívaíñ asked, scratching his head.

"Of course not. I know today wasn't the best introduction, but the Legion could really use someone like you" Hadvar said, quick to make his point.

"I might do that then. Never was a member of the Legion before" Tívaíñ said wistfully.

"And if the rebels have themselves a dragon, General Tullius will be the only one who will know what to do" Hadvar added.

"Do you really think Tullius has any know-how when it comes to long-dead mythical creatures?" Tívaíñ asked critically.

"No, not yet. Dragon's are old, from only tales and legends. No one could have expected them. But if anyone could find out, he would. This could shift the balance of the whole war. If you want to help stop that dragon, then he's your best bet." Hadvar answered.

"Well, how would I join up?" Tívaíñ asked. Skyrim wasn't a place he was familiar with.

"General Tullius has headquarters in Solitude. You'll want to talk to Legate Rikke. She deals with new recruits. I'll be sure to put in a good word for you if I get there first" Hadvar explained.

"Thanks mate. Who were those other prisoners?" Tívaíñ asked, trying to get a handle on the situation.

"You didn't know? That was Ulfric Stormcloak and his top Lieutenants" Hadvar asked and answered in surprise.

"I'm new to Skyrim. I don't have a whole lot of knowledge of this area" Tívaíñ answered truthfully.

"Ulfric is leader of the Stormcloaks. They claim to be fighting for Skyrim's freedom, but the war is really all about Ulfric wanting to be High King of Skyrim" Hadvar said as he continued to explain.

"And the Stormcloaks are?" Tívaíñ asked.

"You haven't heard of the Civil War in Skyrim?" Hadvar asked in continued surprise." I guess down in Cyrodill people have other things to worry about. It's pretty simple. Ulfric founded the Stormcloaks years ago, as a sort of private army to advance his ambitions. He's always used the ban on the worship of Talos to stir people up against the Empire"

"Damn Thalmor bastards" Tívaíñ muttered in anger. Hadvar ignored his friends anger.

"He's never succeeded in getting much support, so a few months ago... he murdered the High King! That got the Empire's attention" Hadvar finished.

"How did you capture Ulfric?" Tívaíñ asked, curious as to the circumstance. "I might have been walking, well, staggering by when it happened, before someone hit me in the head"

"That's probably why someone thought you were a rebel. Anyway, it was a masterstroke by General Tullius. He hasn't been here long, but he's already turned everything around for the Empire. We've been trying to capture Ulfric since the start of the war, but he always seemed to see us coming. The general turned the tables on him. Ulfric walked right into our ambush with only a few bodyguards. Surrendered pretty meekly to. So much for his death-or-glory reputation. I thought we were taking him back to Cyrodill, but I guess the general changed his mind" Hadvar explained, taking his time.

"I think the Thalmor had something to do with it. I saw the General talking to the bloody bastards when we were brought into Helgen" Tívaíñ wondered.

"Anyway, you know the rest" Hadvar finished.

"One more thing, I thought dragons 'ad died off ages ago mate. What's one doin' burning down my escape attempt?" Tívaíñ asked, motioning with his hands.

"So did I! If the damn Stormcloaks somehow found one, or woke one up... the war might be about to take an ugly turn. It couldn't have been a coincidence. The first dragon in centuries shows up right before Ulfric is about to be executed?" Hadvar asked, obviously distressed.

"I think you'll find the dragon stopped _my execution_, not 'is" Tívaíñ joked. Hadvar laughed, and some of the tension drained out of him.

"We had better get moving. I feel like that dragon might be up there watching us right now," Hadvar said, worried. "It's probably best if we split up. Good luck. I wouldn't have made it without your help today" Hadvar said, jogging off.

"The feeling's mutual mate. I hope to see you again in better times" Tívaíñ called out, waving. Hadvar raised a hand and kept going.

Tívaíñ looked down the path and decided to head off into the woods. Opening the map he had tucked away in his armour, Tívaíñ watched as the enchanted item reconfigured itself to show the land of Skyrim. Places he knew were here were marked lighter than the only place he had been, Helgen. Tívaíñ walked through the forest, and eventually crested a rise. He saw another path at the bottom, and decided to follow it. Walking down it, Tívaíñ saw a camp under an overhang. Avoiding the placed traps, he used a stick to activate them, avoiding any future danger. Looking over the camp, Tívaíñ saw a fire, hanging fish, tanning rack, sleeping roll, even a chest. Everything a fisher would need out here. The layer of dust, and extinguished fire told him it had been abandoned. Helping himself to the food, the books, the sleeping roll, Tívaíñ wondered what his curse has gotten him into now. By the Divines he'd find out. After all, that was his job. Oh, and the saving society thing. That too. That might be important at some point.

There were the thoughts of Drake Tívaíñ, of the Dragon Isle, Hero of the Ages, as he drifted off to sleep.

How little he really knew.


End file.
